


Wishing well

by SilenceoftheLlamas



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-24
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-13 15:51:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1232248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilenceoftheLlamas/pseuds/SilenceoftheLlamas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You should learn to say things before it's too late</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter one

I didn’t just love Jazz. I worshipped him. Hidden in the darkness of the night, I left no inch of his body untouched. I clung tightly onto every sound he made, thriving in them.

He had no idea what he did to me.

But he was an idol I could no longer touch.

“Ah think we should call a break.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s gettin’ a lil’... Repetitive.” Jazz replied, struggling to find the right word.

“What do you mean?” I could feel my doorwings starting to droop.

“Ah’m sorry, it’s not you, it’s meh.” He replied, standing up. “Ah’ll see ya ‘round, yeah?”

“... Yes. I’ll see you around.” How foolish of me. I’d forgotten to factor in his fear of commitment.

* * *

 

It didn’t take long for Jazz to latch onto someone else. It was quite depressing, actually. To think that he meant so much to me and yet I was so easily forgotten and replaced.

It was strange laying alone at night. I had become so used to curling up with Jazz that it became difficult to adjust. I hadn’t cried since the fall of Praxus, my beautiful home city, but it was at night when I made up for lost time.

Anguish was all I felt, hidden by a mask of calm and collected features with ice blue optics.

Nobody noticed a thing.

Everyone thought I didn’t care. Nothing was said to me.

I was fine with that.

It was on the battlefield when I finally got released from my slow descent to insanity.

The decepticons were being particularly tricky this battle. I was hoping that it’d be over soon, as just the _sight_ of Jazz made me feel sick to the core. I was angry with him. I didn’t understand what I’d done and he wasn’t interested in talking about it, brushing it off with a simple laugh and a “Ya’ve done nothin’, Prowler!”

I saw the snipers lazer as it lined itself up between my optics.

“Prowl!” Bluestreak screamed, abandoning his position and starting to run towards me. I faintly heard the sound of the gun being fired, and I barely felt the bullet pierce my helm.

Well this was a fairly nice way to go out.

Not from depression, old age nor illness. A simple bullet to the head.

A simple death for a simple mech.

I thought I’d heard Jazz scream my name, but that’s impossible. Wishful thinking on my part. Just a memory loop.

It would be nice though, to be missed. Even for a little while. I knew I wouldn’t be though. I wasn’t important. Easily replaced. All I was good at was keeping a straight face and drawing up plans, and any old mech could do that.

I had no friends. I had no family. I had nothing. I was just an old relic.

Nobody misses relics.

I returned to the well before I’d even hit the ground


	2. Chapter two

I was, in all honesty, terrified.

I had a fear of committing. Commitment meant trust. I could count the number of mechs I trusted on one hand.

Special Ops did that to you.

I was freaked out when I realised the only reason I got up in the morning was to see Prowl. When every moment of every day, my thoughts would wander back to him and I would end up smiling like an idiot no matter what.

I screwed up.

I am such an _idiot_!

Instead of saying what I really wanted to say, I fragging chickened out and told him that we should break it off – the exact opposite of what I dearly wanted. I’d never seen him look so spark broken before in my entire functioning and the way he just _let me_ walk out was even _worse_.

The way he just continued on as if nothing had changed at all and if he simply didn’t _care_ hurt more than I’d like to admit.

I was often in Blasters quarters, often enough for tasteless rumours to spread, usually sobbing, as he tried his best to take my mind off of it. Blaster was a mech I wouldn’t hesitate to give my spark up for, and he was one of my closest friends. I could break down in front of him, easy. He’d seen it all before, especially when me and Prowl got into our spats that left us both fuming.

As horrible as our arguments were, leaving me terrified that he’d never let me snuggle up against him again, I missed them. I missed them so much I’d give up anything just to hear him again.

I missed hearing his voice, I missed the smell of his office, I missed the sound of him furiously typing away on a datapad – I just missed Prowl.

And I’d never be able to make it up to him.

Would he even accept my apology in the well? Would he let me at least _talk_ , try to explain myself?

I had been stupid. I had been so, so _stupid_!!

And now that was it. It’s too late.

He’s gone for good. He’d left us before he’d even hit the ground and there was nothing even Ratchet could do.

Prowl died because I was too cowardly to say three words.

It’s my fault.


	3. Chapter three

Not long after Prowls death, I followed.

Everyone started to notice the difference in me. No more music, no more friendly chatter, no more dancing, no more anything... me. Blaster was at a complete loss as to what to do.

I had stopped refuelling properly, and when I did it was just a sip before I handed it over to Bumblebee who needed it much more than I did.

Ratchet had tried to get me to take in more, going as far as to confine me to medbay and put me on an energon drip, but as soon as I was out again, despite very real threats and promises of pain and wrenches, I still didn’t care. In my eyes, I deserved it.

Prowl deserved someone so much better than me.

The Well wasn’t what I expected, really. I had expected to spend eternity burning in the Pits.

The Well was a blinding white, and the humans weren’t too far off with their description of heaven. I felt light, almost weightless, and when I looked down I still had my frame. It was weird, really, but I guess there had to be something for our sparks to do before they returned to the living.

While any normal mech would go enjoy the views and pay Primus a visit, I had other ideas.

I had to find Prowl.

I was getting weird looks, sprinting around and shouting Prowls name. Even when my legs felt like lead and I could barely move them, my throat sore and hoarse from the constant abuse, I still kept on going.

_I had to find him._

I was nearly dragging myself along the floor when I finally found him. I could barely even speak, but I _had_ to hear him again. He was sitting down, his back was facing me, and he was looking out over a beautiful vista.

“Prowl?”

His doorwings shot up into a ‘v’ shape, but he didn’t turn around.

Please look at me. _Please..._

“Prowler please...”

My voice burst out into static towards the end. He still didn’t turn around. I felt the all too familiar feeling of coolant welling up in my optics, and I thunked my helm against the floor.

I should have known. Prowl was private. His trust was not easily earned, and if you broke it once you never got it again – no exceptions. I had completely torn his spark out and shattered it in front of his face.

He must completely and utterly _hate_ me.

I didn’t blame him. I hated me too.

I must have looked so undignified, lying on the floor crying. I attempted to pick myself up, face-planting in the process, before I was finally standing up on two pedes. My first steps were shaky, but step by step I slowly made my way towards Prowl.

While I was trying to find him, someone had stopped me and told me it was useless. That Prowl was bitter, sour, and that there was no point to seek him out as he would send you away before you’d even got a word out. I hoped that this was a different Prowl.

I eventually made it next to Prowl and I collapsed next to him, intaking heavily. Being as light as a feather isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. His doorwings were still in a ‘v’ shape, pulled taught and quivering slightly from the strain of keeping them that way.

“Prowler-“

“Jazz.” He hissed. I leaned back slightly. I’d never heard him hiss like that before, even towards a decepticon. I bit my bottom lip. What had I _done_...?!

“Ah know this ain’t gonna cut it but-“

“Don’t. It’s useless.”

“Please just let meh expla-“

“So now you’d like to talk about it?”

“Prowler please just let meh!”

“Why should I?”

“’Cause Ah’m a coward! Ah was too scared to say it while Ah could!”

“Never would have guessed there was something you were too scared to say.”

I glared at him, coolant still running down my face and vents hiccupping. “Ah loved ya, Prowl. Ah’d do anything ta get ya back. Ah wanted ta have ya forever, not lose ya.”

He was glaring back at me, and he looked angry. Not furious, just angry. While I was glad to at least see his face again, it was scaring me.

“Don’t” He growled, “Don’t say that. Don’t lie to me.”

“Ah’m not lying!”

“You expect me to believe that when the moment you stepped foot from my office you went off and fragged another mech-“

“Ah wasn’t fraggin’ anyone!”

“Leave.” He snarled, whacking his head away so he didn’t see any of me at all. When he didn’t hear me move, he shouted it.

“Ah can’t feel my legs.” I meekly admitted. Trying to find him had taken more out of me than I’d thought. He growled, jumping off the ledge he was sat on and transforming, speeding away from me. It took a moment to register what had happened before I slowly sunk down and lay on the edge, sobbing and keening.

I’d royally fragged up and I couldn’t even try to fix it anymore. I’d told him how I felt about him and he still wasn’t interested.

I didn’t see a way to fix this one. There wasn’t anything I could think to do. I couldn’t go after him, as the rest of my body was refusing to move. He wouldn’t hear me screaming his name if I tried, and if he’d even come back was a gamble. Before I knew it, I had ended up crying myself to sleep.

When I woke back up again, I could feel something moving. I slowly onlined my optics and looked around.

Prowl had come back, and he was curled around me, arm wrapped tightly around me so I couldn’t get away. He was mumbling something in my audial. I couldn’t understand him, but I didn’t care. He came back.

I snuggled up closer to him, nuzzling his chassis. As I was wrapping my arms around his midsection, what he was saying suddenly became clearer. He was repeatedly apologising to me.

“I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have said any of that to you.”

“It’s okay, Ah deserved it.”

“But you didn’t-“

“Prowler, shush. Just accept it was my fault. I’m admittin’ to it for once! Ya should be celebratin’!”

Prowl snorted, stifling his laughter in Jazz’s helm. Jazz grinned. This felt _great_. He never knew he would miss this so much.

Jazz gently pulled one of Prowls hands away from him and linked their fingers together. “Ah love ya, Prowler.”

“I love you too, Jazz.”

* * *

 

They say that the pain from your spark splitting from your carriers is the pain from a spark being taken from The Well.

They also say that those who become your friends are people who have the sparks of those you were once friends with in your past life.

When I first attended the academy, a new one set up after the great war, I met someone there who no matter what I did, I always felt my spark tug me towards them. When I confided with my creators about this, they told me to bite the bullet and follow the pull.

So I did.

Millions of vorns later, I still don’t regret it. We had bonded. When they died, I followed with them. We entered the well together and continued the cycle together, knowing that no matter what we’d be reunited again.


	4. Chapter one alternative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate version of chapter one.

I didn’t just love Jazz. I worshipped him. Hidden in the darkness of the night, I left no inch of his body untouched. I clung tightly onto every sound he made, thriving in them.

He had no idea what he did to me.

But he was an idol I could no longer touch.

“Ah think we should call a break.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s gettin’ a lil’... Repetitive.” Jazz replied, struggling to find the right word.

“What do you mean?” I could feel my doorwings starting to droop.

“Ah’m sorry, it’s not you, it’s meh.” He replied, standing up. “Ah’ll see ya ‘round, yeah?”

“... Yes. I’ll see you around.” How foolish of me. I’d forgotten to factor in his fear of commitment.

* * *

 

It didn’t take long for Jazz to latch onto someone else. It was quite depressing, actually. To think that he meant so much to me and yet I was so easily forgotten and replaced.

It was strange laying alone at night. I had become so used to curling up with Jazz that it became difficult to adjust. I hadn’t cried since the fall of Praxus, my beautiful home city, but it was at night when I made up for lost time.

Anguish was all I felt, hidden by a mask of calm and collected features with ice blue optics.

Nobody noticed a thing.

Everyone thought I didn’t care. Nothing was said to me.

I was fine with that.

* * *

 

The decepticons were being particularly tricky this battle. I was hoping that it’d be over soon, as just the _sight_ of Jazz made me feel sick to the core. I was angry with him. I didn’t understand what I’d done and he wasn’t interested in talking about it, brushing it off with a simple laugh and a “Ya’ve done nothin’, Prowler!”

I saw the snipers lazer as it lined itself up between my optics.

“Prowl!” Bluestreak screamed, abandoning his position and starting to run towards me.

Hearing Bluestreak scream my name triggered something in me and I quickly ducked, rolling away from where I was standing out in the open to hide behind something. A large rock to my right provided the cover I needed. Despite me quickly finding cover, the bullet still grazed me and badly cracked an optic. I couldn’t see out of it.

Bluestreak was quickly at my side, doorwings quivering. Poor kid had already seen enough Praxians die at the hands of the decepticons, he didn’t need me on that list too.

Although I was still slightly shocked about nearly being shot in the dead, this was a battle field and I had to carry on fighting. I told Bluestreak to continue providing support to a certain front liner duo before I reloaded my acid rifle and took aim at the first decepticon I saw.

Only for Jazz to promptly get in the way.

My finger nearly pulled the trigger, and I felt myself freeze when I thought it had fired. Despite everything, I would never forgive myself if I had shot Jazz. It wouldn’t improve my dwindling mood any further, and the grief I would receive for it would be unavoidable.

The moment Jazz was out of the way again I adjusted my aim and pulled the trigger.

* * *

 

Ratchet was bitching the entire time he made sure I hadn’t suffered from any other damage Optic damage wasn’t easy to fix here on Earth.

Ratchet told me I was lucky. The sniper had an incredibly clean shot of me – one bullet, and I’d be dead.

I was thankful that he didn’t say anything in addition to his raised eyebrows at how low my coolant supplies were. I can easily pass it off as my battle computer working harder to other ‘bots, however when a medic is concerned it’s futile to lie. They know.

The moment I had left the medbay sporting a fetching eye-patch to cover my exposed optical sensors, as Ratchet had removed the glass, Bluestreak had rammed into my side and enveloped me in a hug. He was reluctant to let go, even when I rubbed the area in-between his wings. It was always soothing to be rubbed there.

Jazz used to do that a lot.

Spark clenching, I escaped from Bluestreak after ensuring him that I was fine and everything wrong could be fixed along with a promise of getting energon with him.

I hid away where I always did.

My office.

I had limited vision to start with, so I didn’t see Jazz waiting by the door just inside until I felt his movements with my doorwings. I whirled around to face him, and I was shocked to see how... _broken_ he looked.

Wasn’t he happy?

I thought he was fine.

He had that look on his face that told me he was desperately trying not to cry and start blubbering. I hated that look; I never really was brilliant at comforting.

Probably why he left.

I stood there silently, watching him. His bottom lip started trembling, and before I knew it he had tightly wrapped his arms around me and he was blubbering, fat coolant tears pouring down his face from behind his visor and he was uttering apology after apology. He was shaking, stuttering about how terrified he was when he saw the snipers laser lined up between my eyes and about how he didn’t know what he’d do if I didn’t dodge in time. Gingerly, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and he took it as an invite to huddle closer to me.

While this was making me feel incredibly uncomfortable, I couldn’t help but wonder what had brought this about. I very rarely saw Jazz cry. It was usually after a hard mission that had stressed him out or when he was ecstatic when he did in front of me, otherwise it was always Blaster.

Oh. _Oh_.

He’d turned to Blaster for comfort as he usually did. Comfort. That was all he wanted.

I murmured back to him, trying to get him to calm down before he purged his tanks or offlined from the stress he was putting on himself. He eventually started to stop erratically intaking, however there was still the odd tear. I was surprised that he still had enough coolant – it was all over me and had gotten under my plating. It squelched when I moved, much to Jazz’s amusement. Despite his earlier melt down, he managed to laugh at the high-pitched noises.

I frowned at him, trying to keep as still as possible. He sobered up again, hiccupping every now and then. He was still tightly clinging to me, refusing to let go when I asked him so I could settle myself into a more comfortable position. I eventually gave up and started awkwardly waddling towards the door.

My moping spot had been compromised, and the very thing I was going to mope about was currently clinging to me like lichen. Although my battle computer was insisting that it was illogical to trust Jazz, I did.

Despite what many may think, I trusted him.


End file.
